ess has seen better days. The rats that scurry about have become my companions, and at least it's not as cold as the last place I was imprisoned. This cell, with i

e I was supposed to find medicine for my infected arm, led me straight into the heart of the Shadow Pack. Yes, 'that' Shadow Pack-the m

ar and inviting-a stark contrast to the murky, blood-stained streams in neutral territories where rogues like me fought for survival. I should've known something was w

ying the price

I didn't sense them approach. After nearly a year as a rogue, I'd learned to stay alert, to fight when necessary, and

gh "saved" might be the wrong word. He didn't have the overpowering aura of an Alpha, but he commanded enough authority to stop them from po

there was something else that caught my attention: all of them had black fur. It was rare, almost unheard of, for an entire pack to share the same fur color. What happened to those born with dif

when she sent me here. Did she truly help me to survive, or was this all part of some twisted plan? Wha

en's

. I sent my Beta, Lewis, to handle it. Normally, I would have gone myself, especially given the uneasy feeling that had b

ogue was hardly a threat to the Shadow Pack. But Midnight, my wolf, didn't seem to agree. He was restless,

e in a foul mood, and I found myself snapping at my pack members for the slightest mistakes. It wasn't like me to lose my composure, es

nce with the Moonshine Pack was crucial. But Midnight's agitation kept gnawing at me, a persistent itch

f. He'd been keeping me awake for days, his restlessness preventing me from getti

essiveness: "MINE." The scent wasn't coming from some distant corner of the forest, but from Lewis, my Beta. The realization sent my mind into a frenzy. Midni

he savage need to kill our own Beta. "Stupid! He killed her! She was the rogue! I told you we should go!" Midnight's anguish was so intense that it clou

he scent of my mate. And considering the ruthless rules I had enforced, she was likely already gone, t

olted, running with no direction, just a desperate need to escape the suffocating weight of my own guilt. The hatred I harbored for rogues-ha

iew offered no solace. The pain was too deep, the guilt too overwhelming. Midnight howled in agony, wanting to tear down the entire forest that h

But the guilt still gnawed at me, the knowledge that this was my fault, not theirs. Maybe this was why some wo